What Dean Saw
by deangirl1
Summary: After they visited Lawrence, Sam wasn't the only one having nightmares.


**Disclaimer:** This is a transformative work of fiction based on the original by E. Kripke. Purely for fun and not profit. All hail the man behind the curtain.

**A/N:** Spoilers(?) for "Home" – that isn't really necessary is it? I was supposed to be writing fic for others... and this is what popped out... it's been wanting out since I recently re-watched "Home". Again, my apologies to Gaelicspirit, Vanessa Sgroi, and Caras_galadhon...

**A/N2**: also? This fills one of my hurtBingo squares...

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><p>"You..." Sam didn't get any further before Dean cut him off.<p>

"What the hell was with Missouri? I mean, c'mon, what the hell did I ever do to her?" Dean demanded.

Sam couldn't help but chuckle. Missouri really had given Dean a hard time. Calling him a goofy looking kid. Sam knew it was teasing. Dean had never been "funny looking". He'd always had the blond hair, huge green eyes and long lashes. Long before women had swooned at his feet, Dean had used his looks to good advantage with motherly types. But then, Dean was also a little vain about his ability to conquer the fairer sex, and Missouri had honed in on that like a heat-seeking missile.

"Anyway," Dean continued, "I guess she helped you out a bit?"

"Yeah... I guess. Not that she had any answers..." Sam trailed off, sobering and turning his attention to the scenery of Lawrence as they passed out of the hometown he'd never known.

Dean sighed and turned up the music. Mission accomplished. He felt a little bad about spiralling Sam's thoughts back into himself, but Dean was still reeling from the past few days and the memories they had jogged loose in himself. One of the reasons he'd never wanted to come back to Lawrence. Better to let sleeping dogs lie, after all, and now, he was pretty sure they were howling at the gate. But at least he'd avoided any further heart to hearts with Sam about their Mom. Dean angrily tried to blink away the moisture that just the thought of her always brought to his eyes, trying desperately to keep all those thoughts, memories and feelings locked down. He gripped the wheel a little tighter and speed up as they left the city limits.

SNSNSNSN

Another night, another crappy motel room. Sam threw his duffle on the bed, and turned to see Dean do the same on the bed closest to the door. He had the box of photos in his hand that Jenny had given them before they left Lawrence.

Dean cleared his throat.

"How about I run out for some grub? Thought you might want to take a look through these," Dean said, holding out the box. His meaning was clear. He didn't want to discuss them, but he knew Sam was curious and deserved to see.

"Thanks," Sam said quietly, accepting the precious mementos.

"Pizza ok?"

"Sure," Sam agreed to Dean's quietly closing the door. He hadn't really waited for a response.

Sam stared at the box for a minute, pondering this new side to Dean. He'd been so caught up in his vision and the hunt and seeing Mom, he hadn't really thought a lot about this completely new side he'd seen to his brother. Maybe it was the distance and perspective Stanford had given him, or maybe Dean was a little less guarded after having been on his own. Sam hadn't really taken a lot of time to think about that either. How much time had Dean been completely on his own?

There was this odd mix now to his brother. His walls were certainly higher and more firmly in place. That cocky bravado that could drive Sam mad, and any authority figures, but seemed to make women melt was a finely tuned facade. Yet, occasionally, Dean seemed to forget completely and then Sam saw this side of his brother that he'd had no idea even existed. On some level, Dean really had been hurt by Missouri's teasing – at least to the extent that Dean seemed to feel she found him lacking. And just being in Lawrence had taken a toll on Dean. But the most striking thing had been Dean's reaction to seeing their mother. Sam had been completely caught up in his own emotions, but suddenly, with the now open box in his hand, pictures of a devoted little boy looking with adoration at his blond-haired mother and smiling father, Sam remembered that same look on his brother's face just last night.

Sam found himself looking at a world that had been described for him, but that he had been denied experiencing. Dean had comforted him with stories of their mother when he'd been a child. John had always spoken of her with reverence. But Sam had never had such a forceful reminder of what both John and Dean had lost before. It was a little overwhelming.

There weren't a lot of pictures in the box. They were pretty much completely contained to the few years that they'd been a happy family. There were a few shots of Mary pregnant with Dean, the nursery, welcoming him home. There were a few shots of the new family, birthdays, Mary pregnant with Sam. There were a few shots of Sam himself, with smiling big brother, father and mother. There was one shot of John and Mary, standing together outside their new house when it was still just the two of them. And Sam couldn't help the tears that came as he was suddenly reminded of a similar shot Louis had taken of him and Jess outside their new apartment.

SNSNSNSN

Dean waited a long time before coming back. Long enough that Sam had put the pictures away and was on the computer when Dean finally came in balancing pizza and beer. Sam didn't need to see that the pizza was hot or smell the whiskey on his brother's breath to know that Dean wasn't ready to talk about the pictures yet, so he didn't ask where he'd been or for anything else.

Dean visibly relaxed when Sam took the proffered pizza and beer with a quiet thanks and turned the conversation to a possible new hunt. They made a relatively early night of it.

Sam was used to being woken up in the middle of the night by his own nightmares. He wasn't used to _Dean_ waking him up having one of his own. By the time Sam even realized what had disturbed his sleep, Dean had let out one explosive _NO_, leapt out of bed, and slammed into the bathroom. The closed door did little to muffle the sounds of his brother's retching.

Sam waited as patiently as he could. It was ten minutes before Dean emerged, though, carefully shutting off the light before he opened the door to hide himself from prying eyes.

"You o..." Sam didn't get any further.

"I'm fine. Sorry I woke you. Musta been that burrito I had for lunch." Even with the lights off Dean kept his head down and turned slightly away from Sam.

"Right," Sam breathed. He was pretty sure that Dean hadn't had a burrito for lunch. In fact, if Sam thought about it, Dean hadn't eaten a whole lot of anything – even pizza – yesterday. Maybe the stupid bugger was coming down with something – or hadn't eaten enough to balance the whiskey and beer... though he hadn't seemed drunk at all... Sam's thoughts started to scatter and he was dragged back under to sleep. It had been a stressful few days, after all. He was snoring softly and missed the hitching of his brother's breathing from the other bed.

SNSNSNSNSN

"You _sure_ you're ok? Maybe you _are_ getting the flu?" Sam asked a few days later. Dean still looked off. Tired. With dark circles under his eyes and a bit too pale. And he still wasn't eating the way he usually did.

"Jesus, Sam. Stop being such a girl! I'm FINE!" Dean growled.

"Excuse me for giving a crap. I'm the one that has to put up with you when you're like this." Sam snapped back. He felt bad as soon as he'd said it. And he knew he'd never get anything out of Dean now. He mentally slapped _himself_ on the back of the head.

Predictably, Dean glowered at Sam before simply turning on his heel and leaving Sam alone in the motel room.

Ironically, Sam had been getting more rest since leaving Lawrence because Dean had woken him up every night with his own nightmares before Sam could get trapped in his own. He was a little taken aback by how easy it was for him to get back to sleep after his brother's nightmares. He wasn't sure if Dean was going back to sleep, however. Sam was determined to get to the bottom of what exactly was going on with his brother.

SNSNSNSNSNSN

Dean sighed as he saw the light still on when he got back to the motel. Sam had waited up. Some things never changed. Sam was never going to take no for an answer. Once he started picking at something he wasn't happy until he had it bleeding. Dean knew from experience that that only made the scar worse. Of course, he also knew from experience that pulling the bandaid off fast hurt less... but this? No. He didn't want to share this, and not with Sam. It wouldn't help either of them, and he feared it would just make things worse for Sam. He'd dealt with it alone for so long, there was no reason to go spilling his guts like a girl now. No. He could just keep sucking it up. He was sure the memory would fade again in time. And maybe, if he could just keep his own shit together and not wake Sam up again, maybe Sam would let it go.

Dean snorted. As if. Sam letting something go would be a sure sign of the Apocalypse. Dean took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and entered the lion's den.

"Dean. What the hell?" At least Sam had waited for Dean to get his jacket off. And his voice was concerned, not bitchy or demanding. The tone sure to make it hardest for Dean to resist. He sighed.

"Look. I told you going back to Lawrence was not on my list of things to do. Like ever. So I've been having some not so nice dreams, ok? Just let it go. They're just dreams. They'll pass." Dean ran his hand through his hair, looking steadfastly at the ground instead of his brother.

"I get that Dean, I really do, but I've never seen anything bother you like this." Sam hesitated and softened his voice even more before continuing. "Is it because we saw Mom? Are the dreams about her?"

Dean was quiet, turning his back to his brother, weighing what to say – how much to say.

"Yeah. Just. Please, Sammy. Just drop it," Dean's voice was barely audible.

"It might help to talk about it, you know."

"No."

Sam sighed. He'd have to be satisfied with as far as he'd gotten. Maybe Dean was right and they would pass.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Something woke Sam. He'd been sleeping more lightly, expecting Dean's nightmare, and this time he woke at what must have been close to the start of it. This had happened a few times lately, and Sam had been able to wake his brother before the dream got really out of hand. This time, Sam decided to see if he could glean any clues about what his brother was dreaming about.

Dean's sleep had become fitful, and he tossed under the sheets. He's kicked the bedspread off already. He was muttering under his breath and Sam sat up, leaning forward to hear.

"No...Mommy?... nghgn... Daddy? No!... mmmoggnnh... NO!"

And then Dean was lunging out of bed, sliding into the bathroom and losing his dinner again. Sam wanted to kick himself for letting it go that far again, but he was sitting in shock in his bed rather than going to his brother because he was pretty sure he knew what the nightmare was. Sam was almost positive the dream was similar to the one that he'd been having himself. Sam was convinced that Dean was watching their mother burn on the ceiling every night, just as Sam usually saw Jess.

Sam waited for Dean to come back to bed. The retching had stopped a long while ago and then the water had come on. It was a great way to drown out the sound of anything you didn't want anyone hearing. Sam had learned the trick from his brother.

Dean finally emerged, head down and turned from his brother in the dark room. Sam waited for Dean to get back in bed.

"You're dreaming about her, aren't you?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean sucked his breath in sharply. It was all the answer he needed. He hadn't even had to supply a name.

"Are you seeing her on the ceiling?"

Dean's breath hitched. He rolled from his back to his side, facing away from Sam. Sam listened to him lose the battle to regain control of his emotions.

Sam couldn't stand it and didn't care what his brother said at that point; he left his own bed and sat on his brother's, placing one hand on his back. He could feel the tension rolling off Dean as he continued to try to suppress the turmoil inside of him.

"I'm sorry, Dean. But we had to go back. I'm sorry that seeing her so close to seeing Jess..." Sam struggled with his own too raw emotions.

"I'm sorry that seeing them so close together caused you to put the two together..."

Sam was shocked when Dean huffed what sounded like a laugh.

"That's funny to you?"

Dean rolled away from Sam's hand and sat up. He still wouldn't look at his brother.

"There's _nothing_ about this that I find funny, Sammy. And sure as hell, not the death of either Jess or Mom," Dean said quietly. Dean decided his brother should know. So maybe he'd drop it.

"Sammy," Dean finally turned to look at his brother. His green eyes were huge, made larger by the moonlight glinting off the moisture that filled them.

"Sammy, I don't _need_ any substitute to see Mom burning on that ceiling because I _did _see her. I saw her _that_ night."


End file.
